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Uncovering Our Strength

I watch as smoke drifts upwards from a small fire in my
friend’s backyard. As the smoke lifts into the night sky, I ask it to carry my
prayers and pleas up to Spirit. Inside the house, a map of the United States
filled in with mostly red, is displayed on the screen of the TV. No one is in
the house watching the TV any longer. We are all sitting outside staring at the
fire shocked and in disbelief that Trump had become president. Stunned and terrified
we hesitantly tell each other softly, “our fight continues” and “activism is
alive.”

I’ve never felt such visceral fear in my body about an
election before. There’s a neighbor up the street with several Trump signs in
their yard. I found it comforting that other neighbors around them, three to be
exact posted signs for Hillary facing the street and facing the house in a
direct response. Yet, I can’t ignore that live in a red state, one where a
majority of people voted for a man who campaigned on hate, violence and fear.
Safety is suddenly my new everyday question. And I know I’m not alone in this
intense vulnerability.

At home, I hold my partner and cry a bit letting myself drop
fully into the fear of what will happen to me as disabled person, as the daughter
of an immigrant, to this border I live nearby. I fall asleep exhausted
completely immersed in my vulnerability and fear.

In the morning, after confirming the truth was still what I
had left the night before, I sit by myself alone. I feel consumed by fear and
knew if I don’t get grounded, I will lose myself in worry. Getting grounded
means feeling a stream of energy from my hips going down deep into the earth,
feeling that energy come back up through my body out the top of my head into
the universe and then feeling it return down into my body again. Being grounded
means I’m aware of my body, and this helps me understand what I need and what actions
I want to take. But, I was lost in the stack of emotions piled on top of my
center, the ground I sat upon. I was unable to feel the stability beneath me. I
had to delve through these feelings first.

Sinking into the feelings and how they feel in my body is
different than thinking through the feelings. I try to not analyze or create
logic or to get lost in the imaginings of the future. Instead, I focus on the pressure
in my lower chest, the intensity of throbbing pain. I sit in my awareness of
this for a long time. My mind wanders and I pull it back to just observe. After
a while, I notice the pain had shifted to my back. I sit and observe this shift.
(This discomfort is different than disability pain. It’s literally the manifestation
of how I’m feeling in my body.)

Finally, the pain fades and I am able to imagine a cord of
energy dropping down from my hips into the earth. I feel the ground beneath my
body.

Sometimes in the midst of upheaval, we need to create a
small space for our bodies to be present with our feelings. Talking to my
partner later, he says, “It’s hard for me not to be shutdown. To succumb to the
despair I feel about the current reality.” “Yes,” I say. Then I shared with him what I
had done, how I had sat and paid attention to everything inside of my body
which was reacting to feeling so vulnerable. When we are giving ourselves
attention, it is hard to be disconnected.

Underneath vulnerability is strength. Meaning, underneath
all of these emotions and fear, however connected to reality they are, lies our
desires, intentions and love. When I am in touch with my feelings of
vulnerability, then I am also in touch with my desires and strength. Yet, if I
stay in a place of disconnection and let myself shutdown, then I will live in
my trauma both current and in the past. I will live in a place of fearful anticipation
which makes me more open and susceptible to panic and shame. I need to touch my
strength, even if it’s only with my heart.

In some ways, I feel the need for my world to get smaller. I
might try to check in with my neighbors more and ask friends to tell me how
they’re doing. I know I need to fall back into a place of witnessing and
supporting those who are around me. If we could all do this, then we all would have
something, some kind of support. My partner also reminds me of the importance of
engaging and changing systems. To change and support the structures which provide
for our day-to-day lives. The balance of time and energy to devote to vulnerability
and strength, to witness each other’s lives and to cultivate and listen to our
desires and dreams is now our current task.

Connecting to our own strength is essential in making it
through what will come. We must draw a circle in the sand. Take a moment to sit
there alone and allow ourselves to have a safe containment for the
vulnerability we need to witness within our own bodies and hearts. Breathe.
Touch the dirt. Give ourselves attention. In our strength, our desires and our
love are the gifts the world needs now.

About Me

Naomi Ortiz is a writer, poet and visual artist who cracks apart common beliefs and spills out beauty. As a disabled Mestiza living in the U.S./Mexico borderlands, Naomi supports individuals to build bridges through facilitated discussion, art, poetry and reflection, connecting them to their own truths around self-care and living in multiple worlds. Naomi provides individual consultations and is a nationally known speaker and trainer on self-care for activists, disability justice, and intersectionality. Her upcoming book, "Sustaining Spirit: Self Care for Social Justice" invites and supports readers to explore the relationships between mind, body, spirit, heart and place in order to integrate self-care to survive and thrive. "Sustaining Spirit: Self Care for Social Justice" will be released in 2017.